Blaze
by DefyGravity18
Summary: There are some things in life that you just can't truly recover from. Abuse. Death. Traumatic experiences. The pain never really leaves you, but you have to learn to live with it. Surviving Titanic was the easy part. Living with the aftermath is what's hard.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is actually going to be a complete rewrite of my older story Hearts Will Go On. HOWEVER, while it has the same basic premise, this story will actually be nothing like HWGO. And the ending will be completely different.  
**

**If you haven't read it, disregard that!**

* * *

_**ROSE**_

There are some things in life that you just can't truly recover from. Abuse. Death. Traumatic experiences. The pain never really leaves you, but you have to learn to live with it.

My father died when I was fifteen years old. He fell asleep one night and never woke up. I remember waking up to my mother shrieking for help and flying out of my bed without bothering to cover myself with a robe. I'd flown to their bedroom and found her hovering there with two of the maids, shaking my father desperately, begging him to open his eyes.

But it was too late.

Three days later, he was in the ground. My wonderful, loving, hardworking father would never sing silly songs with me again. I'd never hear him call me Red again. What I didn't know when he died was that Daddy had a secret. He was a gambler. In those days, those kinds of things were kept from the children…especially daughters. Daughters were only meant to look pretty and make good matches to further the family name.

We were a wealthy family, one of the most prominent names in Philadelphia. Old money. But, like all things, money runs out. And ours was gone, leaving us in near ruin. The house was taken and we were forced to live with my formidable great-aunt Victoria Dewitt, a sour faced woman who had probably never smiled a day in her miserable life. She wore her hair pulled back so tightly, it seemed to pull the skin of her face back and make her look almost alien. Everything I did and said displeased old Aunt Victoria. She despised my preference for reading, saying that too much knowledge can ruin a lady's disposition. She told me that my voice was not nearly sweet enough.

On my sixteenth birthday, I was introduced to Caledon Hockley. I knew who he was, of course. He was famous for three things. Being the son of one of the richest steel moguls in America, being a womanizer and being ruthless in his ambition to make more money.

There were thirteen years separating us, so I never really thought anything of him, other than he was slightly intense for my liking. There was something unsettling in his striking gray eyes that made me tend to avoid him. But, on the morning of my sixteenth birthday, I was informed by Mother that it was of the utmost importance that he take a liking to me. Being very young, I didn't realize she intended to marry me off to him. It became apparent, however, when I was put into a corset, something that I hadn't worn until that point. I wasn't a fifteen year old child anymore. I was a woman of marriageable age, and it was time for me to make an advantageous match, as my peers were wont to do.

"You must impress Mr. Hockley, Rose," Mother told me over breakfast, "He has expressed an interest in you after meeting you at the Christmas Ball last year."

"An interest in me? Why?" I'd crinkled my nose, not understanding her meaning.

"Why, Mr. Hockley is looking to wed. He's nearly thirty," She explained, sipping her morning tea.

"You mean, you intend for him to marry…_me?"_ I cried, jumping out of the chair and wincing at how hard it was to breathe in the blasted undergarment they'd forced me into.

"Well…_yes,_" Mother said, frowning, "To what did you think I was referring?"

"I don't _know!" _ I exclaimed, "Yesterday, I was wearing a pinafore. Today, I'm put into this _contraption_ and told I have to marry an old man!" Mother had laughed at this.

"An old man…oh, child…Hockley is in his prime. He's handsome. He has all of his hair. You should consider yourself fortunate," She insisted, sighing. "You know most girls aren't so lucky. Remember your friend Gertrude?" I cringed, picturing the paunchy, bald old man that she'd been married to only four months earlier. She was only six months older than I.

"But I don't love him," I'd finished lamely, pouting.

"You'd best put those foolish thoughts out of your mind," Aunt Victoria's harsh voice came from the doorway as she hobbled in, clutching her cane in her awful, talon-like fingers. "This isn't about love. It's about marriage. You have a duty, Rose. Your one purpose in this world is to make a good match. You will marry Hockley, and you will do it with a smile on your face." My mother nodded, meeting my eyes sadly.

"You must."

And so, that evening, when I was dressed in a green gown with my hair pinned at the crown of my head, I looked into the mirror and I didn't recognize the person I saw there. She was pretty, but she wasn't real. An attractive illusion…bait to lure in a buyer. It made me sick to my stomach, but I played my part and smiled at Mr. Hockley, taking his arm and allowing him to walk me into the gardens. It was unnerving the way his eyes roved over me, but I hid my discomfort and pretended that every word he said to me was the most interesting thing I'd ever heard.

But that night when I went to sleep, I wished. I wished for a handsome prince to come rescue me like in the fairytales I'd loved so much as a girl. In one day, I'd been forced to grow up and face the ugly reality of the world. It wasn't fair…especially if you had the misfortune to be born female.

We became officially engaged almost one year later, after a long courtship. It was decided that the wedding would be put off for a year and that we would travel with Cal to Europe to oversee the opening of his father's factories overseas after attending the coronation of King George. Right before my seventeenth birthday, we boarded the _R.M.S. Mauretania,_ a grand ship that took us to Liverpool. Mother had terrible sea sickness on that trip, leaving me with ample free time, when I wasn't accompanying Cal, of course.

To his credit, Cal was not unkind to me for the most part. He was commanding, true enough, and he did not tolerate defiance. You must understand, in those times, it was not unheard of for a man to hit his wife for speaking against him or displeasing him. Cal had been raised this way, and I will maintain that somewhere in him was good. He was generous to my mother and me. He doted on me, and there were times, I even imagined that I could learn to love him genuinely and make him happy.

Of course, there are things we weren't supposed to discuss. Cal had mistresses. It was common knowledge that he kept at least three women. There was even talk that he'd gotten one of them pregnant, but it would never be brought up in polite conversation. I'd only seen Cal angry a couple of times in our courtship, but those times had taught me that he was not a man to cross. It was on that first trip that I met Cal's valet, Spicer Lovejoy, a sullen, sour gentleman who had probably never smiled in his entire life. I remember thinking that he and my Aunt Victoria would get along splendidly.

My favorite part of Europe was undoubtedly Paris. The food and wine were wonderful, but my favorite thing was the absolute love of art in any form. We attended the Paris Opera. We went to the Louvre. It seemed like there were artists on every corner, trying to sell their works. I'd always been fascinated with art, even though I was hopeless with watercolors, much to Mother's dismay. The extent of my artistic talent was my eye for _finding_ art, not making it. I used the allowance Cal gave me to buy paintings. If there was one thing I was going to enjoy in this marriage, it was going to be collecting art. Even though Cal thought my taste in art was lacking, he tolerated my passion and it gave me a purpose, however small.

In March of the following year, Cal told us that it was time to return home. It had been a grand vacation, but it was time to return to our lives in Philadelphia and it was time for us to marry and start having children before I was past my prime. At least that's what Mother told me. I couldn't imagine that I was past my prime at seventeen, but I didn't argue. It was always easier to just smile and nod. Cal told us that he'd bought tickets for us to return home on the grandest, most luxurious ship the world had ever seen. The _R.M.S. Titanic._ It was all anyone had been talking about for months, on the front page of the papers.

I didn't want to go home. Going home meant that it was all real and I was going to marry Cal and have his babies. I was going to be a high society wife, throwing grand dinners and pretending not to know that my husband was sleeping with other women when he didn't come to my bed at night. Of course, Cal was getting restless after almost two years. He made no secret of his desire to lie with me, and had taken to trying to coerce me into his bed at night. I could only hope that getting it all over with would sate him enough to give me some freedom. I still didn't really _know_ what it meant to lie with someone. Mother had obviously never told me, and other than the crude explanation I'd gotten out of my hand maid Trudy, it was somewhat inconceivable to me how it all worked. I couldn't imagine loving anyone enough to want to do…_that._ Especially Cal.

The ship was _terrifying_. I'd never seen anything so enormous in my life. The only thing I could think of was that in four or five short days, we would dock at New York and Rose Dewitt-Bukater would cease to exist, replaced by Rose Hockley. I wasn't sure I would like her. I barely knew if I liked _me._ Seventeen is a confusing age. The first night was a blur. We ate dinner and I retreated to the safety of my bedroom, taking down my hair and massaging my poor scalp. I tried to remember what life was like before all this. When I was the chubby little girl in a frilly dress with bows in my hair. Mother had used to fret because I had a round face and my skin was so fair that I would burn almost at once. Thankfully, I'd grown out of that in my teenage years and the baby fat had matured into womanly curves. The roundness in my face was gone. But I still saw her there sometimes, the ruddy faced little girl who had loved to let her father tell her scary stories. I missed her. I missed _him._

There seemed to be a ticking clock in the periphery of my mind chanting _five days…_When I woke up the following day, it was taunting me. In five days would begin the pre-wedding festivities. First, a formal dinner with Cal's father. Then, a wedding dress fitting. Meetings with lawyers and bridesmaids and florists. I couldn't believe it was all happening. That prince had never come to rescue me and now I was going to be trapped in the tower forever, doomed to a shallow life of endless fluff. Nothing I ever did would matter. Nothing would ever change. And I didn't know what to do.

So I panicked.

At dinner that night, when the gentlemen retreated for cigars and brandy, I claimed a headache and retreated to the bedroom. My corset seemed too constricting, making it hard to breathe as my mind raced and the harder I tried to catch my breath, the worse it got. By the time I opened the door, I was practically wheezing.

"Trudy!" I called, praying she was nearby, but there was no response. Frantically, I tried to reach back to unbutton my dress, but those dresses were not made for quick or easy removal. They were for fashion not convenience and I realized I was even trapped in my own clothes. "Trudy!" I called again, near tears and becoming angry, tearing at the dress, wondering if I could rip it off. I wrenched the necklace from my neck off, breaking the delicate clasp and ripping pins from my hair. "_Trudy!"_ I cried, heaving. My eyes burned as I struggled to take in air. When she never came, I flew into madness, tossing things off of the vanity and screaming in frustration, sobbing. I was going to die in that damned dress and nobody would even hear or care.

That's when it hit me. The perfect escape. I could slip out unnoticed and just let myself fall into the water and slip away. I'd just close my eyes and think about Daddy and fall asleep…and I wouldn't have to marry Cal. They'd probably look for me, but they'd get over it. Cal would find another girl. Mother would live comfortably with Aunt Victoria and I wouldn't be sold off. Being seventeen, I was slightly dramatic, but at the time, it felt like the only solution. So, blindly, I ran.

I paused to look down at the roiling waters below, wondering if it was going to hurt or if it would be instant and I would just float into oblivion. Numbly, I climbed the rails and held tightly, closing my eyes and trying to find the will to just let go. I had almost worked up the courage, when a voice made me start violently.

"Don't do it."

Panicking and more than a little embarrassed, I'd called back, "Stay back! Don't come any closer!" I turned to look back and saw a man standing there, not much older than me. I figured if he thought I was insane, he'd leave me to it.

"Come on," He inched toward me like someone trying to approach a rabid dog, "just give me your hand. I'll pull you back over."

"No, stay where you are! I mean it! I'll let go!" I turned back around, trying to show him I was serious. He presented the cigarette he was smoking to me and threw it off the ship. I tried to watch it fall, but it was so small, it was lost before it was even halfway to the water. He gave me a challenging, cautious look, putting his hands in his pockets.

"No you won't."

"What do you mean 'no I won't'?" I asked indignantly, "Don't presume to tell me what I will and will not do! You don't know me!"

"Well, you would've done it already," He shrugged.

"You're distracting me!" I snapped, "Go away."

"I can't," He returned resignedly, shaking his head, "I'm involved now. You let go and I'm gonna have to jump in there after you." This was a mess. I was supposed to have just gone quietly and no one was supposed to notice. Now this obnoxious fool of a boy was going to spoil everything.

"Don't be absurd," I argued acidly, "You'd be killed."

"I'm a good swimmer," He assured me, grinning.

"The fall alone would kill you," I pointed out, feeling a twinge of panic at the thought.

"It would hurt," He conceded, "I'm not saying it wouldn't. Tell you the truth, I'm a lot more concerned about that water being so cold." I had no answer for this as my eyes fell to the water below, angrily lapping at the bottom of the ship.

"How cold?" I finally murmured. That's when I noticed he was removing his boots. He shrugged again.

"Freezing. Maybe a couple degrees over. You ever, uh," His eyes shifted, "You ever been to Wisconsin?"

I stared blankly at him. "What?"

"Well," he continued, "they have some of the coldest winters around. I grew up there, near Chippewa Falls. I remember when I was a kid, me and my father, we went ice fishing on Lake Wissota." I had no idea how to even respond to this. "Ice fishing is, you know, when you—"

"I _know_ what ice fishing is!" I growled, rolling my eyes. The boy seemed to hold back a laugh, making me want to slap him.

"_Sorry,_" He grinned, "You just seem like, you know, kind of an indoor girl." When he saw I was not amused, he went on, "Anyway, I, uh, fell through some thin ice and I'm telling you, water that cold," He nodded toward the ocean, "like right down there…it hits you like a thousand knives stabbing you all over your body. You can't breathe. You can't think…at least not about anything but the pain. Which is why I'm not looking forward to jumping in there after you." He raised his eyebrows at me, shrugging resignedly. "Like I said, I don't have a choice. I guess I'm kinda hoping you'll come back over the railing and get me off the hook here."

I glared at him. "You're crazy!"

He chuckled. "That's what everybody says, but with all due respect, Miss, I'm not the one hanging off the back of a ship here." He smiled, and I felt my determination dissolve, sighing in defeat. "Come on. C'mon, give me your hand. You don't want to do this." Swallowing my pride, I took his hand and slowly turned around on the rail, turning to face him. I was sort of surprised, staring down at the stranger with blond hair hanging in his eyes. He was very young, but something inside him was older. There was wisdom in his light blue eyes, perhaps even sadness lying beneath his optimistic exterior. I felt like I knew him.

"Whew!" He exclaimed in relief, grinning. "I'm Jack Dawson."

"Rose Dewitt-Bukater," I countered, making him chuckle in amusement.

"I'm gonna have to get you to write that one down." I couldn't help myself, I laughed. If there were people like this in the world, then maybe it wasn't such a bad place to live. Even if I had to marry Cal, I could find good friends.

That's when I fell. And for a moment, I thought it was all over. It wouldn't matter that I'd chosen to live, because I was going to die anyway. I realized that I could never have killed myself, because no matter how bad things seemed, they weren't worth dying for. And I didn't want to die. Not like this. But that stranger did not let go of my hand, he fought it and somehow, he found the strength to pull me up and over the rail and I got to live to see another day.

That was when everything changed.

That prince I'd been wishing for was right in front of me, dressed in rags. I'm not sure if I fell in love with him that night or if it was the following night when I snuck down to third class with him. Or maybe it was when he walked me back to the First Class entrance and we sang, both of us still full of energy even after the exertion of dancing for hours.

"_Come Josephine, in my flying machine going up she goes! Up she goes!"_

We'd reached the door and we'd stopped walking. I reluctantly removed his jacket and handed it back. "Well, here we are," I sighed.

"Right," He nodded as his smile faltered slightly.

"I don't wanna go back," I admitted, pausing briefly, before looking up at the night sky, so clear and brilliant in the middle of nowhere. No smog or city lights to pollute it. "Look," I murmured, "It's so beautiful."

"Yeah," He agreed, eyes turned upward. We probably looked like two small children, enchanted by something so many people took for granted. But I didn't care what we looked like. It was the happiest and saddest I'd ever felt. All at once.

"So vast and endless," I observed, twirling around one of the ropes on deck. "We're so small! My crowd…they think they're giants…but they're not even dust in God's eye."

"You know, there's been a mistake," Jack smirked, looking me in the eye, "You're not one of them. You got mailed to the wrong address." I laughed, surprised and flattered. The last thing I ever wanted was to become a vapid, insipid imbecile like so many of my friends had. It was the best compliment I'd gotten in a while.

"I did, didn't I?" I giggled, noticed a flash of light fly across the sky and gasping. "Look!" I cried excitedly, "A shooting star!" I'd never seen one before, but it seemed appropriate that I would see one here, standing with Jack Dawson. My only real friend in the world.

"That was a long one," Jack added, still looking up. "You know, my Pops used to tell me, every time you saw one, it was a soul going to Heaven." I looked at him for a moment, seeing that sadness I'd detected the night before. I held back the urge to hug him, because I knew. I knew exactly what he was feeling. The emptiness of losing my father still gnawed at me constantly, taunting me. It didn't seem right that he'd been gone for three years.

"I like that," I concurred, "Aren't we supposed to wish on it?" He looked down, meeting my eyes. I swallowed, feeling slightly nervous. It wasn't like the nervousness I felt with Cal. It was almost like an excited nervous. It felt like hope.

"Why?" He asked, smiling down at me, "What would you wish for?" I wasn't sure how to answer this. If he'd asked me the night before, I'd have wished for an escape. Now, I wasn't sure. Everything was different, standing in front of this boy and wondering what it would be like to have his arms around me. What it would be like to kiss him. I'd kissed Cal, of course, but it wasn't exactly what I would consider romantic, never mind the fact that he terrified me. Hiding my utter terror, I touched his shoulder and muttered a good night and fled. It was a cowardly thing to do, but I did.

I paid for my fun the next morning. Cal was furious. His valet had followed me and had reported back to his master like a good little lap dog. It was enough to scare me into following his orders. I wasn't sure if he'd retaliate against Jack, so I didn't challenge him. I resolved to forget Jack and focus on my duty. Whether or not I liked it, this wedding was going to happen. I was going to marry Cal and Jack was going to return to Chippewa Falls or wherever he decided to go next. And that was just the way it worked.

What I didn't expect was for him to come after me. He cornered me during our afternoon stroll and while I was absolutely terrified, I was also thrilled that he cared enough to come after me.

"Rose," He said, staring down at me, "You're no picnic, alright? You're a spoiled brat even, but under that, you're the most amazingly astounding, wonderful girl—" He shook his head, "_Woman_ that I've ever known."

"Jack, I—" I began uncertainly, but he stopped me.

"No, let me try and get this out," He pleaded, "You're ama—" Another shake of his head, "I'm not an idiot. I know how the world works. I've got ten bucks in my pocket. I have no—nothing to offer you and I know that." He had no idea how wrong he was. "I understand. But I'm _too_ involved now. You jump, I jump remember? I can't turn away without knowing you're alright. That's all I want."

"Well, I'm fine…" I lied. I wasn't fine. I was dying. "I'll be fine. Really."

"Really?" He sounded skeptical. "I don't think so. They've got you _trapped,_ Rose. And you're gonna die if you don't break free. Maybe not right away because you're strong…but sooner or later, that fire that I love about you, Rose…that fire's gonna burn out."

I felt like he'd punched me in the gut. It took everything I had not to double over. "It's not up to you to save me, Jack."

"You're right," He agreed seriously, "Only you can do that." And then he was gone. But it wasn't over. I went after him. I fell hard as only a very young woman can fall and in my mind, my future started to change. I saw a new life forming. Perhaps I wasn't meant to live as a society wife. Maybe my purpose in this world was not to make an advantageous match. Maybe fate had put me and Jack Dawson on the _Titanic_ for a reason. Maybe happiness wasn't too far out of my reach.

Fate is a cruel, cruel thing.

Twelve hours later, Jack Dawson was gone forever and I was lying in a lifeboat, staring up at the sky, waiting for the _Carpathia_ to rescue us. My only consolation was that I had escaped Cal, even if it meant giving up my mother. I would let them believe that I had perished on the ship and I would start anew. I had a promise to keep. Some love affairs last months. Years. Decades.

Mine lasted for two and a half days. And then, he was gone.

But I wasn't alone. I didn't know it, but Jack had given me one more thing. In January, I gave birth to a healthy red haired girl. I thought I'd known love in my life. I loved my parents. I loved my cat. I loved Jack Dawson…brief though it had been.

But none of that compared to the love I felt for the person I'd given life to. We'd spent our time together. I'd felt her move. I'd spoken to her. I'd wondered what in the world I was going to do with her. She terrified me, but I love her more than I'd ever loved anything.

"What is her name, Mrs. Dawson?" The nurse asked. I looked up, realizing every decision I made from this moment on would affect this girl's life. Even her name. For a fleeting moment, I sorely wished for my mother, who always seemed so sure. How could I be responsible for this girl when I barely knew how to care for myself? What would Jack have named her? Jacqueline? Too cliché. Molly? She didn't look like a Molly to me. I briefly considered Grace, but the sound of the nurse humming to herself, made me look up.

_Come Josephine in my flying machine, going up she goes! Up she goes!_

"Her name is Josephine," I heard myself say, looking down at the infant. "Jo."

"Very good, Ma'am."


	2. Chapter 2

It's funny, because when we're young, we think we know the world and then, when we're thrust into it and forced to face it's ugly, flawed face, we realize how naïve we were. To say that I was unprepared would be a hideous understatement. After twelve hours as Rose Dawson, I was already considering running home to my mother begging her forgiveness. The heel of my shoe broke. I could barely keep my eyes open. I was starving and I was nearly attacked. There was a reason that women weren't allowed to roam the streets alone. They were vulnerable to the scum of the city…especially after dark. After being examined by a doctor, I was set free and left to go on my way. The only problem was that I had nowhere to go. I had no friends to speak of. Not here.

I had no money to my name, save for a giant diamond I'd found in my pocket.

I had hobbled along for nearly two miles, praying a plan of action would come to me. That I would blink and suddenly know how to live on the streets. Jack had made it sound so glamorous, but this all looked awful. I suppose it's worse when you're alone. I turned into an alley, resigned to sleeping on the ground for the night when I saw three figures come toward me out of the darkness like the demons from my nightmares. I backed away, prepared to run and praying that they wouldn't find the diamond in my pocket, but I ran right into someone and screamed. A hand covered my mouth.

"Well, well…look at this!" The man holding me captive sneered, grinning down at me. He was filthy with a ragged beard and hands that looked like they hadn't been washed in months. "We have ourselves a pretty little guest!" He raked his eyes down my body. "Run away from home, Princess?" I glared at him, unresisting and praying he would just let me go. One of his hands ran down the side of my body, lingering over my breast and making me nauseous. "Scream again and I'll strangle you," He said, and tears filled my eyes as he began to reach into my pocket where he would undoubtedly find the diamond.

"What's going on down here?" A man's voice barked into the alley. I was shoved harshly onto the ground, wincing as my palms were scraped on the cement. "Hey! You okay?"

"Yes, I'm fine, I think…" I groaned, sitting up and examining my raw palms. The man crouched before me, gently taking my wrist.

"Let's see, dear," He said, and I looked up. He was a few years older than me, perhaps closer to Cal's age, but his eyes were kind. I noticed the ring on his fourth finger. "Seems okay, just some scrapes. Are you alone? Do you have someone looking for you?" I almost laughed at the irony of that statement, but I shook my head instead.

"No," I answered quietly, letting him help me up.

"My name is Jesse Bowman. My wife and I live nearby. I was on my way home from work and heard you scream," He explained. "Why don't you come home with me and I'll let her take a look at those scrapes? She trained to be a nurse."

"You would let me into your home?" I asked in wonder, my heart beating too fast to hope. He smiled at me, and that's when he noticed my rumpled state.

"Look, I've seen a lot of people in this city. I know who's trustworthy and who isn't. But, I also can tell that you have no idea what you're doing." His eyes are kind, but his face is grim.

"Is it that obvious?" I mutter, looking ruefully down at my clothes.

"You're wearing a ball gown," He pointed out. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you ran away from home."

"It's a long story," I sighed, defeated. "My name is Rose De—" I stopped. "Dawson."

"Well, Miss—"

"Mrs.," I quickly correct, thinking it better for him to believe I was widowed rather than some runaway teenaged girl. His eyes narrowed skeptically at me, but he nodded.

"Mrs. Dawson. Why don't you come into our home for a bite to eat? My wife makes a delicious roast and I'm sure she'd be happy to have you."

I had no other options. I followed him for a few blocks, hobbling beside him on uneven heels. My feet were screaming at me, but I gritted my teeth and ignored the pain. I stumbled a little on a piece of uneven pavement and Jesse caught me by the arm, realizing something was off.

"Your shoe is broken!" He sighed. "And you're practically dead on your feet." Shaking his head, before I could protest, he scooped me up into his arms. "It's just ahead," He assured me, when I attempted to feebly argue. I was even too tired for that. Every muscle in my body ached.

We were greeted by a pretty blonde woman. She took one look at me and gasped, ushering us inside. "Goodness, Jesse, what happened?"

"Her name is Rose. I found her in the alley up the road off the intersection," He told her, setting me down lightly and stooping to kiss her on the cheek. "Some guys had her and were trying to—"

"It's probably that damn gang that Al Jensen's son runs," The woman said, shaking her head and turning to me. "I'm Elizabeth…Beth. I'm Jesse's wife."

"Momma!" A tiny voice called from the other room. Beth sighed.

"And that is our son David!" She laughed, sending Jesse after the child so she could attend to me. I let her guide me into a washroom, where she pulled some clean towels out of a cupboard. "You look dead on your feet, dear."

"Yes," I nodded numbly. She pulled the coat off of me and I leaned against the wall as she dipped a towel in warm water. I noticed her eyes fall to my dress as her husband's had.

"What happened to you?" Beth asked, pressing the towel to my face. The warmth was the most wonderful thing I'd ever felt. I sagged in resignation, realizing I was going to have to tell them something.

"I was on the _Titanic…_" I began cautiously, watching her eyes widen. "Oh my goodness! Why didn't you tell us! We can help you get into contact with your fam—"

"No!" I cried, grabbing her wrist to stop her. "I…my family…I don't have anyone. My…husband…died. I'm alone." Never had words hit so hard. It all came crashing down in that moment. I was _alone._ The only person who was going to ensure my survival in this world was me, and _that_ was scary. I'd never spent a day alone in my life. I had no idea how to go about finding work.

"I'm sorry," Beth told me sincerely, pulling me into a hug. I broke, dissolving into painful, wrenching sobs and letting it all come out until I was so worn down and sore, I had nothing left to cry.

"_Promise me you'll survive. That you won't give up, no matter what happens, no matter how hopeless. Promise me now, Rose and never let go of that promise." _

Those words seemed to taunt me. How could I keep that promise? I knew nothing of the world, save for the pretty little bubble I'd lived in my entire life. This was all foreign to me. I felt useless. But I also owed it to Jack, because he died to give me the chance to live. I was a coward, but some things are more important than fear. _Hope._ So, I lived on, because there was nothing left for me to do. Jesse and Beth helped me find a place to live at Mrs. Buckley's Boarding House for Young Ladies. I found work in a factory, which was grueling work, but it paid my bills.

A little over a month after I started working, I fainted. I'd never fainted in my entire life. Many of my friends in society swooned and claimed to have the vapors, but I'd never understood that. I wasn't weak. It was horrid and embarrassing, dropping like a sack of potatoes. I'd been walking out for the day and the world had gone fuzzy and I'd fallen. I awoke to a group of ladies hovering over me worriedly, gabbing a mile a minute. The foreman had fought his way through them and had helped me up. I'd gone to Beth, hoping she could help since she'd almost been a nurse. She sat me on a kitchen chair and took my pulse, asking me questions.

"Perhaps it's just your monthlies," She suggested, making me a cup of hot water and lemon. "Sometimes, it can cause us to—" I bolted upright in the chair, eyes wide, counting frantically in my head. The first emotion I felt was denial. Cold, desperate denial.

"The last time I bled was the end of March," I gasped, shaking my head. It was nearly June! Impossible.

"Did you and your husband…?" Beth trailed off, clearly flustered, "Were you…intimate…in mid-April?" I could only stare at her. "Mid-April." April fourteenth. My head felt foggy again and I thought for a moment that I might faint.

"Yes…" I whispered, understanding full well what _intimate_ meant now. I had no illusions about what happened when a man and a woman lay together. A doctor came to their home and confirmed it that evening, and I was told that I would give birth some time just after the New Year. How could I mother a child when I was still a child myself? I'd wanted so badly to be an adult and now that I had to become one, I felt younger than ever.

I was let go from the factory, being damaged goods. A pregnant girl was of no use if she couldn't perform the labor she was meant to. I was taken on as a maid in a hotel, which was no better than the factory. I was starting to see the appeal of making an advantageous match, which led me to a horrifying realization. If I'd gone back to Cal and he'd found out that I was with child, what would he have done? What would Mother have done? I shuddered to think of it, absently putting a hand over the flat skin on my abdomen. It was hard to believe that there was actually something in there that would grow into a human being. Someday, this person would be a man or woman who would make their mark in this world. It didn't become apparent until we were closing on the end of July. I put on my dress to go to work and it wouldn't close. Beth improvised and helped me sew a patch into the fabric, extending the waste a few more inches and letting out a few of the pleats. It bought me another month, but by the time I'd reached the middle of September, it was impossible to wear.

When my friends had had babies, they'd been pampered and spoiled. They'd spent their days lying on chaise lounges and having things brought to them. Their feet were put up and their sore backs were attended to by faithful servants. I was lucky if I was able to put my feet up at all in a day. My back ached constantly. My feet throbbed, contained in boots that were too tight for them. The child was restless, giving me no rest. It was quiet, but in the night when I needed to sleep, it was frenzied.

My time came almost one week after the New Year, in the middle of the night. It had been a long day, and my back had been bothering me more than usual, sending shooting pains down my legs and making it unbearable to climb stairs. By the time I returned to my room at the boarding house, I was in agony, unable to close my eyes. When I rose to try and stretch my aching limbs just after midnight, I felt the gush and stood, unbelieving. I struggled to dress and crept out into the hall to knock on Mrs. Buckley's door. She was an elderly woman, who had lost her husband to a disease that consumed his mind when her children had been teenagers. She looked at me in concern.

"Rose, my child…it's past midnight…" She said, looking me over and noticing the way I was clutching my middle. Her eyes widened and she nodded. "Your child…come, let's get you off to the hospital."

It was awful. It was everything that people had warned me about and worse. It was a ripping, soul tearing pain that seemed to pull from the inside out. Beth arrived and stayed with me throughout, holding my hand for support. It was the single most horrid thing I had ever physically experienced and that included lying in freezing cold water on a scrap of wood waiting to be rescued. Then, as quickly as it had come, it was gone.

"A girl." The doctor informed us, leaving me dumbfounded. I'd been sure it was a boy, probably because of how active it had been. But she was produced a moment later, with a thick swirl of hair, identical in color to mine. They wrapped her and handed her to me and I had to laugh, despite being tired.

"You poor, unlucky girl…" I kissed her little cheek. She looked quite put out, squinting up at me with a sour expression on her face.

"Oh, Rose…she's lovely," Beth cooed, touching the baby's hair. "She's going to look just like you."

"Well, I hope not completely," I responded, feeling oddly sentimental. "I hope she has a little of him in her. If not in looks, then in personality."

"She will," Beth assured me, putting an arm around me. "I spoke with Jesse. We think it best if you moved in with us. I know Mrs. Buckley gave you a week to find a new home, but a boarding house is no place for a baby."

"I couldn't do that," I protested, shaking my head.

"It's no burden, if that's what you're thinking. We're moving back to where his family lives in Iowa. His grandfather left him the house. We think it best for the children…New York is no place for babies to grow up."

I could only stare at her in shock, unsure of what I was hearing. She and Jesse wanted me to come to Iowa with them and raise my baby. I was afraid to hope, but I knew it was the best option for us. I had to think of her now, it wasn't just me any longer.

"I couldn't ever take adv—" I cut off, realizing what she'd said, "Children?" Nodding, she smiled down at me.

"We're expecting again. Summer," She informed me. "Sooner or later, they're going to find you here, Rose." My stomach dropped and I gripped the baby tighter.

"Who?"

Silently, she produced the newspaper with my pictured emblazoned across the front of it. It was a story about Cal. Specifically, Cal's marriage to Isabella, who I immediately recognized as his mistress of choice. It told about how he'd found love after losing his fiancée to the _Titanic._ Of course, the fact that their son was somewhat a scandal, but there was little money couldn't buy…including reputation. I stared at that photograph of myself with growing dread. Beth was right, someone was bound to recognize me and people would come looking.

"Why didn't you tell us the truth?" Beth asked softly, brushing my hair out of my eyes. "You know we'd never judge you."

"Because this is truth I never wanted anyone to know. I left that life behind. And what I told you is the only truth that I care to believe," I told her, looking up at the nurse who entered.

"What is her name, Mrs. Dawson?" She asked.

I met Beth's eyes and answered, "Her name is Josephine." I swallowed. "Jo." Beth and I met eyes, and she understood my decision, smiling at me to show her support.

Within in a week, we were on a train to Des Moines, headed for a new life. The baby was, thankfully, very mild mannered. She wasn't a terrible crier. It was a relief, because she'd been so restless while in the womb, I'd been afraid I'd give birth to some sort of hyperactive demon child. But she wasn't. Jo was a good baby, and she would grow into a good girl. She had her moments of misbehaving as all children do, but I was grateful that she was good to me. It definitely helped, once she was walking, to have Beth's son David there to keep her busy. I thought it might be a problem since he was almost four years older than she was, but they got along really well.

I loved Iowa. I loved the rural feel and the quiet. I loved the old farm house with it's open, sunny rooms and the wraparound porch. I was introduced as Beth's widowed sister. My daughter would call Beth and Jesse her Aunt and Uncle.

There was a small schoolhouse nearby in need of a teacher. With my education, I was hired immediately and found myself teaching children from five to eighteen years old every day. It was a job I adored. Something about seeing a child's eyes light up with knowledge that I gave them made me feel fulfilled. And I got to go home every night before dark and make supper with Beth. This was the life I'd always dreamed of. Simple. Quiet. Happy.

When Josephine was two, there was a local dance. Beth decided it was time for me to get out and start living again. Jesse's mother would take care of the children and we would all attend. I put on my nicest dress and for the first time in three years, pinned my hair back. I was relieved that it was nothing like the balls and soirees of my past. People were laughing and talking and dancing. There was no shallow small talk or uptight dancing. The music was loud, fast and people were enjoying themselves. I felt a bit like a fish out of water, remembering the third class party I'd attended on _Titanic. _A little pang of sadness pulled at my heart as I thought that this was just the sort of thing Jack would have loved.

"Why so sad?" A man's voice interrupted my thoughts, making me jump.

"My goodness, you startled me!" I exclaimed.

"You're Beth Bowman's little sister, aren't you?" He asked. I nodded, accepting his proffered hand. "I'm James Calvert." He shrugged, "Jim. Jesse and I have been friends since we were children." I looked up and found myself staring into a pair of ice blue eyes. His hair was dark. He was one of the most handsome men I'd ever laid eyes on. He was tall, almost half a foot taller than I, and broad. He reminded me of Jack, despite looking nothing like him. I think it's why I liked him.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Rose," I shook his hand, smiling at him. "Dawson," I added.

"Rose," He nodded, grinning, "I like that."

"How come we haven't met?" I asked, feeling guilty for finding him attractive and letting go of his hand quickly.

"I've been out of town for a while," He admitted. "I was working up in Detroit at an automobile factory. My wife…passed away…" He winced, "Just this past winter, and I decided it was time to come home. My Pa's been gone a while, and his farm is in shambles, so I'm gonna try to fix it up and see if I can make something of it."

"I'm sorry for your loss," I told him honestly, "I…know what it's like." He nodded his thanks, swallowing hard.

"Jesse told me you're a widow," Jim informed me, "I hope that was alright with you."

"Well, even if it wasn't, it'd still be true," I chuckled, smiling sadly. "I have a little girl," I added. He looked down at his boots, hooking his thumbs in his pockets.

"Ours was a little girl too," He replied, "It's how Anna…she was giving birth. The stress was too hard on them both, and—"

"My God," I breathed in a hushed voice, "I can't imagine." I thought of my little red haired doll at home, making a mental note to hug her extra tight before bed tonight. "Nobody should ever have to go through that." He stared at me, shaking his head sadly and turning away.

"Well, it was nice to me you, Miss Rose," He nodded politely to me and walked off. I watched him stop to speak to an older couple. That night, after I put Josephine to bed, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling and trying not to think of Jim Calvert and his haunted ice blue eyes.

A week later, Beth told me he was coming to dinner and I panicked. I brushed my hair frantically and pulled it back. I washed my face and hands and put on one of my favorite dresses. As I looked in the mirror, I tried to remember Jack's face. Even though I'd recognize him immediately anywhere, the small details were fading. The only thing I knew for sure was that Jo had his eyes, bright aquamarine and full of mischief. I barely had time to feed her, before rushing down the stairs just as Jim arrived. I'm embarrassed to say, it was not a pretty sight as I lost my footing on the rug and went flying forward, not seeing poor Mr. Calvert standing in the hall. It was a good thing he had good reflexes, because he caught me before we both could go down.

"Good Lord, I'm so humiliated," I muttered burying my face in my hands. I heard him chuckle, putting me to rights by the shoulders.

"No harm done, Ma'am," He grinned. "I like your dress. Matches your eyes."

"I…thanks…" I felt my face become uncomfortably warm. I felt shameful. I did not want to like him, but Lord help me, I did. I could barely stop myself from looking at him. I'd pray for forgiveness later, but at dinner, I watched him.

"Rose," Beth said after we'd all eaten dessert, "Why don't you show Mr. Calvert the rose garden?"

"Why?" I asked in confusion, "It's going to be a while before they bloom." I met her eyes, and noticed Jesse shaking his head at her. I realized she'd planned this. She wanted Mr. Calvert and me to make a connection.

"I don't mind," Jim said good naturedly. "Come on, Red. Some fresh air would do you well." I stared at him in surprise.

"What did you call me?" I asked, feeling the breath leave my body.

"Oh, sorry…I didn't mean to offend you," He began, trying and failing to look sheepish.

"No, you didn't I just…" I shrugged helplessly. "No one has called me that in a very long time." I smoothed the front of my dress. "Let me just grab my jacket and—" The sound of crying coming from above halted me. "Excuse me."

I dashed up the stairs and found Josephine sitting up in her bed, crying. She was sweating, her flame colored curls matted to her forehead. Gathering her up, I sighed, closing my eyes. She was burning up. "Beth!" I called, cradling her close. Beth appeared a moment later, noticing the baby's state.

"Oh dear…" Beth sighed, taking her from me. "I think it's just a summer cold, Rose. David had it last week and the baby's been sniffling as well. We'll keep an eye on her, but she should be fine." I was terrified. Jo had never been sick before, and I had no idea what I was supposed to do for her, so I burst into tears.

"There, now…" Beth soothed, setting Jo down under the covers and pulling me into an embrace. "She's alright…" I rested my head on her shoulder, grateful to have her in my life. "I remember the first time David was ill. He was a little younger than Jo, and he was feverish and coughing. I was terrified. Every awful scenario playing through my mind. Scarlet Fever. Pox. Influenza. But, he prevailed with some syrup and some warm blankets. She's going to be _fine…"_

"Thanks, Beth…I'm just…I worry about every decision I make with her. I'm terrified to make a mistake. I want her childhood to be happy," I admitted. Beth took my face into her hands.

"The fact that you're so worried, tells me that you're making the right decisions, Rose," Beth laughed, kissing my forehead. A knock at the door drew us apart. We turned to see Jim standing there, looking apologetic.

"M'sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to make sure everything was alright," He explained, "Jesse went out for a smoke and I don't smoke, so…" His eyes fell to the sleeping girl on the bed. "This is your daughter?" Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed Beth discreetly leave the room.

"Yes," I nodded, moving to sit on the bed again, reaching up to push her hair out of her face. "Josephine."

"She looks just like you," He swallowed, standing back.

"She has her father's eyes," I replied, settling the covers over her again.

"I should go…" Jim murmured, backing toward the door, clearly haunted by what could have been. He was still reeling from the loss of his wife and daughter.

"Jim, wait!" I called after him, standing and grabbing his hand. I took a deep breath, barely able to believe what I was going to say. He stared at our hands, looking ashamed. "I know what you're going through," I rasped, "I'm afraid too. But, I like you. If you're ever ready, I—" I sighed, "I'd be happy for you to call on me."

"Really?" His voice was low, but his eyes were blazing. I looked down shyly, glancing back at my girl. She needed a father. And I was so very tired of having nightmares and waking up alone every morning. I was ready to be a wife.

"Yes," I affirmed. "We're the same, Jim. We both lost people we love. Somehow, we ended up meeting each other. You lost a daughter. I have a daughter who needs a father." My eyes filled with unshed tears. "It's fate."

"You can expect me to call then, Mrs. Dawson." He smiled, despite himself, "Red."

With that, he kissed my hand and left. I swallowed, feeling the first real shred of excitement I'd felt all year.


End file.
